


Yes, I'm Changing

by vulturewomen



Category: The Creatures | Cow Chop RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Christmas Party, Declarations Of Love, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Guilt, Internalized Homophobia, Lack of Communication, M/M, Nausea, One Shot, Present Tense, References to Depression, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Stream of Consciousness, Suicidal Thoughts, Summer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2019-03-12 20:50:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13555329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulturewomen/pseuds/vulturewomen
Summary: It’s not every day that, as a non-religious man, you feel God abandon you; like a new-born baby outside a fire station, but when Jakob van Grubsby saunters through the front door of the warehouse on his first day with his Ray Bans half way down his fucking nose, Asher briefly considers himself a religious man, ready to take to his knees, and then he feels God adios and at that exact moment, Asher is God’s Dumpster Baby and Jakob is the sexy fireman destined to save him.





	Yes, I'm Changing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [narzisstische](https://archiveofourown.org/users/narzisstische/gifts).



> TW: Explicit sex, references to suicidal thoughts, minor/implied internalized homophobia, guilt over age

 

**_Life is moving,_ **

**_can’t you see?_ **

**_There’s no future left_ **

**_for you and me._ **

 

**I**

When Trevor had first mentioned Jakob, Asher was thrilled. The company was in desperate need of another pair of shoulders to carry the weight with the amount of content they’d be putting out, and Asher had heard really great things about this prolific editor.

But Asher was certainly _not_ expecting a tall, dark and handsome _teenager_ to sit his perky ass down on the lobby couch, and he certainly wasn’t expecting James to hire him.

It’s not every day that, as a non-religious man, you feel God abandon you; like a new-born baby outside a fire station, but when Jakob van Grubsby saunters through the front door of the warehouse on his first day with his Ray Bans half way down his fucking nose, Asher briefly considers himself a religious man, ready to take to his knees, and then he feels God _**adios**_ and at that exact moment, Asher is God’s Dumpster Baby and Jakob is the sexy fireman destined to save him.

He introduces himself to Asher with a handshake. Asher tries to pretend that the sweat pooling at his hairline is because of the heat. He tries to hide the fact that his hand is trembling as he reaches across the space between them to shake Jakob’s hand.

“Nice to meet you. What’s your name?” Jakob asks. Asher watches him look around awkwardly when he doesn’t answer but hasn’t let go of his hand. Asher can’t answer. He can’t get his tongue to detach from the roof of his mouth. “Uh—”

“This is Asher”. A voice says and a sharp _smack_ to his back knocks him out of his haze. Asher looks around to see James stood there, the beast responsible for putting Asher in this position. Asher glares at James as he and Jakob talk like Asher isn’t there. And like Asher isn’t still holding onto Jakob’s hand. He wonders if his hand feels clammy.

What a joke.

Of course, it does.

“Asher is one of our editors. I know we discussed your skills in your interview but if you have any questions, come to good, old Asher here”, James smacks him again, “he’ll be sure to help you out, isn’t that right buddy?” James is talking to him now. And his eyes are full of mirth.

Asher clenches his teeth and answers with an affirmative “ _mhm”._

James leaves the room with a smile on his face and Jakob clears his throat. Only then does Asher let go of Jakob’s hand. He about-faces and high-tails it out of the lobby.

On his way out, he wonders why Jakob didn’t let go first.

* * *

 

 

And now, because of James, there’s this infantile, barely fully mature _boy_ sat opposite him 9 hours a day, 5 days a week and Asher’s having to pretend he’s not thinking of every which way he can please him?

Okay, fine.

Asher’s had workplace crushes before and he’s also had **No Fraternising** rules to keep him in check, but in a laid back company like Cow Chop, there is no such rule ( _especially with the two owners of the company already fucking; it would be a little counter-intuitive for them_ ) and now with Trevor suggesting that Jakob move in to help divvy up the rent, Asher thinks he might explode.

It had come out of nowhere, really. Asher had been sat in the bullpen at his desk, editing the newest Amazon video when Trevor had rolled over in his office chair and planted himself at the end of Asher’s desk, his head resting innocently on his palm.

Asher had raised an eyebrow and asked, “is there something I can help you with, sir?” to which Trevor had replied by inclining his head to his shoulder and smiling guiltily. Asher had narrowed his eyes then, officially aware that something was _afoot_.

“What do you want?”

Trevor had clapped his hands together and sucked air in through his teeth. “So, uh, hypothetically—”, Asher had rolled his eyes, “if we were to have a spare room that needed filling since Joe’s departure and I _happened_ to have someone to fill the vacancy, what would you say?”

Asher had felt a million tonnes lift off his chest at the mere mention of an extra person helping with rent. “What? That sounds great, Trevor!”

Trevor had nodded. He had scratched the back of his head, awkwardly, “And—", he hummed, “whatwouldyousayifthatpersonwasJakob?”

Asher had closed his eyes. He knew that he’d heard correctly, but he’d been hoping that Trevor might amend the sentence, or change his mind, or a meteor would hit the warehouse and kill the conversation before it got any worse. “Uh, what was that?”

“What if the person who could, hypothetically, fill the vacancy was our good friend, Jakob?”

“Well,” Asher had clenched his teeth so hard he’d felt as if his ear drums were going to burst, “that sounds fantastic, Trevor”. He’d smile, tight; eyes dead.

Trevor had looked taken aback. “What, really?” and Asher had stiffly nodded.

“Cool! I’ll go tell him right now! Thanks, Asher!”

Asher had watched Trevor walk away and when he was out of sight, Asher had let himself melt into the chair and had hoped that he could become one with it and he could just live at the office as a roll-chair, never doomed to crush on stupid boys ever again.

* * *

 

Asher is ripped from his thoughts by a cheerful “Hey!”, and when his eyes focus, Jakob is standing above him with somewhat perturbed look on his face. The sun is bleeding through the window behind him and it’s framing Jakob’s head in a halo of light, as if he’s just descended from Heaven to gift upon Asher a gift; himself.

Asher can feel himself staring and blinks a few times, looking once, or twice, over his shoulder, as if looking like he doesn’t recognise his surroundings is going to make this situation any better or make Asher look any saner, for that matter.

He clears his throat to avoid any more awkwardness that will almost definitely occur if he doesn’t, and offers a Jakob a quiet and almost childlike, “hello” in response.

Asher watches Jakob frown through his lashes and has to stop himself from staring in adoration, like a blushing June bride.

“What’s up? Is James in yet?”

Asher shrugs, as if he’s going to know. He’s apparently been in a hazy stupor since he arrived. He doesn’t even really remember getting out of the car. Oh, shit. Did he put the handbrake on?

A mumbled, “I have to go and check if my handbrake’s on” sort of leaves Asher’s mouth before he bounds out of the door to check if his car is halfway across the parking lot or sailing through the middle of a busy road without him, leaving Jakob in the lobby frowning after him.

“Okay...?”

* * *

 

When Asher re-enters the warehouse a quarter on an hour later, safe with the knowledge that his car is firmly sat where he left it, he hears a booming, “does anyone know where Asher is? It’s time to film!” and is suddenly aware that he’s at work and not in a stupid romantic comedy.

He quickens his pace and waves an apologetic hand as he takes over the camera from Anna, so she can go and edit.

Asher catches Jakob watching him from across the bullpen, and feels his face redden. He blows air up his face to cool it down, as if he’d just ran four miles instead of 10 feet across the warehouse, and he watches Jakob grin coyly out of the corner of his eye.

He can hear Aleks and James laughing at whatever game they’re playing but he’s not really paying attention. He’s having an unofficial staring contest with Jakob. Neither of them are willing to look away and Jakob is grinning ear-to-ear like this is a game for him.

He's over there; all long legs and soft smiles. Asher can feel himself bowing to it; like a wooden boat under the pressure of the entire ocean. Jakob sticks his tongue out of his mouth and runs it along the length of his teeth. Asher feels a full body _shiver_ race down his spine and has to look away, conceding his defeat. Jakob claps in celebration.

* * *

 

They record for a little over an hour, and Asher’s ass is numb on his stool and his stomach is _this close_ to falling in on itself from starvation. When Aleks calls it, Asher practically 36-foot-vertical leaps from his seat. He sets the camera down and heads towards the fridge, where his tortellini is happily waiting to be devoured.

Except.

Except when he gets to the fridge and jovially flings it open, it is empty. The void laughs at him. His tortellini is no where to be seen. The one fucking time he labels it, it’s stolen.

He could cry.

But he knows who the culprit is. He also knows what it takes to lose the second round of this game. Which is why he doesn’t honour Jakob with a response. Instead, he makes himself an old-fashioned ham sandwich and parades it back to his desk. He doesn’t let Jakob see the grimace on his face when he takes his first bite and the bread gloms onto the roof of his mouth.

The tortellini would never do this to him.

* * *

 

It slowly, or quickly, gets too much for Asher. He thought he was cut out for this but he’s not.

Jakob stealing and eating _all_ the tortellini was _fine,_ he supposes. Asher’s worked in asshole workplaces before where people blatantly ignore labels and eat other people’s food. It’s whatever.

But expecting him to clean it up? That’s a step too far. The tortellini was in a Tupperware box so why Jakob felt the need to dig out the biggest plate to eat it off is beyond Asher. Except that it’s not. Asher knows _exactly_ why Jakob would pick the biggest plate and make the most mess he was capable of.

All in the hope that it would piss Asher off. In the hope that Jakob’s sadistic ass could get his rocks off on irritating Asher.

When Asher strolls over to the sink and sees a literal sink-full of dirty plates and suddenly becomes aware that he’s the only person that’s going to clean it, he sees red. Nowhere in his job description did it say that he’d be editor as well as, _uh_ , head fucking dishwasher.

He throws his plate into the sink and cringes when it grates against the other crockery.

He turns and storms over to the bullpen to wring Jakob’s neck, but he’s not there. He turns on his heel and walks out towards the parking lot. Maybe Trevor is showing Jakob his new car. Instead, it’s James and Trevor out there. They both turn to look at Asher, question on their faces.

“Hey, guys. Have you seen Jakob, by any chance?”

Trevor snickers and Asher feels hot with rage. James offer a sympathetic smile when he sees Asher’s flustered face and shakes his head. “Sorry, dude. Maybe he’s in the bathroom.”

And Asher barely lets him finish his sentence before he’s storming back into the warehouse and towards the bathroom.

“Jakob! Are you in here?” He announces as he strides into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

A toilet flushes and the lock on the stall door clicks. Jakob leaves the cubicle and strolls towards the sink. The fucker has a smug grin on his face.

He turns the tap on and faces Asher.

“Were you looking for me?” he asks, coy.

Asher can’t decipher rage from hunger anymore.

“Why are you being an asshole?” Asher accuses, and Jakob puts a hand to his chest without touching his shirt, mock-offended.

“Me? Am I being an asshole?”, he pretends to look upset, looking to the ground with his eyebrows furrowed before his face drops and he looks through his lashes at Asher, grinning like a misfit teenager. Oh wait, he is one.

Asher sighs, resigned, having lost all his energy the minute Jakob started talking.

Jakob turns off the tap and dries his hands on his jeans.

He takes a step towards Asher.

Asher swallows.

Jakob sucks his bottom lip in between his teeth. “If I’m upsetting you”, Jakob raises a hand and puts it on Asher’s cheek, running his thumb under Asher’s eye as if he’s wiping away tears, “you should just tell me, and I’ll stop”.

Asher doesn’t respond. He can’t. He feels a magnetic pull. His mouth is the North pole and Jakob’s is the South. He closes his eyes and pulls himself away from Jakob. He doesn’t look at Jakob before turning around and leaving, closing the door behind him.

He feels a droplet of water fall down his cheek from Jakob’s hand. He hadn’t dried them very well, apparently.

How symbolic.

* * *

 

Asher is sat on his bed, staring at the wall, for probably thirty minutes trying to convince himself he’s not Humbert Humbert and this is all perfectly legal, but dating an 18-year-old has never, _ever_ been on any to-do list of his and now he feels like a lost cause, damned if he does, damned if he doesn’t.

At least he’s not alone in his feelings. At least Jakob feels the same way. Maybe that’s not a good thing. Maybe it’d have been easier if Asher’s feelings were unrequited and he could pretend he wasn’t falling in love with the stupid kid.

Kid.

Fucking hell. What did he do to deserve this?

He makes the executive decision to stream. What a better way to stop thinking about Jakob than to mindlessly talk to strangers and shoot ugly virtual monsters.

He loads up Twitch, takes a long, deep breath and hits **_broadcast_**.

He taps the microphone, “hello? Is this thing on?”, he jokes. And what a better way to ignore his feelings than with humour. The usuals start pouring in. Mods say their hello’s and Asher answers a few boring questions, shoves a few things in his mouth, and then boots up Bioshock.

He’s halfway through collecting chlorophyll in Arcadia when a $15 donation comes through. He, instinctively, looks over to read it and his eyes gloss over the username **_‘alsojakob’_** _._

His, “what do you want, Jakob?” gets interrupted by the automated reader, who in her stupid monotone voice says, “ ** _what are you, fucking gay, dude?”_**

Asher rolls his eyes and tries to hide the blush that’s slowly creeping up his neck. “Literally, where the fuck did that come from? Besides, you know what they say - takes one to know one”, and he watches the chat light up with " ** _press F to pay respects_** ”, and various keyboard smashes.

Another donation from Jakob doesn’t come back through so Asher figures he’s one this time.  

* * *

 

 

He ends the stream at 11. It’s fairly uneventful after Jakob’s “outburst”, and the game gets too monotonous after a while for Asher to continue. He says his goodbyes, thanks the chat for watching, and signs off.

He heaves a long sigh and rubs his hands over his face. He feels emotionally exhausted.

He pulls his phone out of his back pocket and texts Trevor to meet him in his room. Trevor sends a string of question marks, but still comes in to see him. He looks confused when Asher asks him to sit.

“Are you okay?” He asks and Asher huffs.

“Yeah—, uh, no. Not really.” Asher can tell Trevor feels uncomfortable and almost regrets bringing him in here. But, in a way, this is all Trevor’s fault, and he’s earned this.

“Why? What’s up?” He asks, and Asher can hear the insecurity in his voice, not used to be the therapist of the group.

Asher doesn’t beat around the bush.

“I think I like Jakob and I’m, like, having a crisis because he’s nineteen years old and I feel like Chris Hansen is gonna emerge from the ground and consume me for being a predator”.

Trevor looks…not shocked. As if he knew. Which Asher finds extremely unlikely considering he hid this very well.

“Uh, yeah. Well, I knew about the first bit. You’re not very subtle.”

Apparently not.

“I don’t think being in love with Jakob makes you a predator, Asher— “.

Asher interrupts him to rebut, “Uh, who said anything about love?”, and Trevor peers at him through his periphery before continuing.

“And if it did, you’re not a good enough one to get on To Catch a Predator, so I wouldn’t worry about the Chris Hansen thing”. Trevor braces himself when Asher swats at his arm.

“Trevor! Now is the absolute _worst_ time for memeing! I’m in the middle of a crisis and you’re trying to get laughs? What kind of man are you?” and Trevor laughs a little. Asher laughs as well, feeling a little lighter than he did 10 minutes ago.

“Jakob is nearly twenty. He’s been an adult for nearly two years. A year and a half? I’m bad at math, I don’t know. The point is, he’s been legal for a long time. You’re not a bad person for wanting to be with him.” Trevor offers Asher a supportive smile and he squeezes Asher’s upper arm amicably.

“Go and talk to him. I think you might be pleasantly surprised”, he says, and pushes himself up from the bed. He waves a goodbye over his shoulder and shuts the door as he leaves.

Talk to him. Talk to Jakob. Jakob. Talking.

Okay.

Asher thinks he might be able to manage that.

What could go wrong?

* * *

 

Asher walks into the warehouse the next morning. He can feel Jakob’s eyes on him. It burns like a branding iron. Like he’s marking territory.

He walks into the bathroom and sits in a stall, locking the door. He texts Jakob and asks him to meet him in the bathroom. He sends the text and waits. And waits. And it feels like the wait from when Asher hits **send** to the second he hears the door squeak open is the definition of eternity.

He stands from his seated position on the toilet and opens the door slowly, afraid to look at Jakob despite being the one that asked for them to meet. Jakob looks worried.

“Hi.”

“Hello.”

“About yesterday—" and “I’m sorry about yesterday—” blend together in a mix of vowels and then silence. What’s on their minds is now out in the open, floating around in the air between them and the tension is thick.

Jakob swallows and starts. And stops.

“I want you.” Asher blurts. And then regrets. And then he wants to retreat into the toilet cubicle like it’s the closet and he’s 15 again, coming out to his mom.

Jakob’s looking at the ground again. He’s good at that. But he’s got a smile on his face.

“That’s the best news I’ve heard all day. I was so worried that I’d offended you or made you uncomfortable yesterday. I’m so glad that’s not the case”, Jakob says, earnestly. And he’s looking at Asher now. And his eyes are filled with adoration. And Asher sighs with relief.

He nods, mostly lost for words. Jakob looks like he’s on the verge of hysteria.

“Sorry about the tortellini”, he offers, “I wanted you to notice me”. He blushes.

Asher huffs. “I noticed you the minute you walked into this fucking warehouse, Jakob. The tortellini was uncalled for”, still feeling betrayed.

Jakob belly laughs. “It worked, though. Right?” and Asher rolls his eyes fondly.

He takes a step towards Asher. “We’re here now. Congregating in the bathroom”, and another step, “spilling our little gay hearts out for each other”. He’s crowding Asher against the sink now, his hands on either side of him.

Asher’s looking up at Jakob and Jakob’s looking down at Asher, and without really thinking about it, Asher parts his lips and lets Jakob lean down to kiss him.

He feels Jakob’s tongue along his bottom lip and he opens his mouth wider, allowing Jakob to lick into his mouth. Their tongues meet, and Asher feels the back of his thighs tingle. Jakob runs his hands down Asher’s side and cups under his ass, ready to lift Asher onto the sink but Asher pulls away. Jakob leans in for another kiss, but Asher turns his head, Jakob kissing his cheek instead.

“Are you okay?” Jakob asks, his voice rough. Asher nods. And Jakob shakes his head. “Use your words, Asher.”

Asher whispers, “yes, I’m okay”, and weaves his hands around Jakob’s waist, looking up at him to meet his eye.

Leaning into Asher, Jakob whispers “Then, come on,” his fingers teasing around the curve of Asher’s hip as he slowly rubs his groin against Asher’s, swaying from side-to-side like he’s dancing, “what are you so fucking afraid of?”

“You’re only eighteen”.

Jakob scoffs and takes a step back, his hand disconnecting and leaving Asher like a man without water.

“You’re only 22, Asher! Stop talking like you’re fucking 60!”. He’s shaking his head in disbelief, his eyes alight.

“I feel like I’m taking advantage of you”.

Jakob deflates; his anger abandoning him, and he tips his head to the side. Asher feels like a scalded puppy finally allowed to sleep with its master.

“Asher—” Jakob starts, and stops. He takes a step towards Asher again, and he’s stood close enough that there’s barely a breath between them. He reaches for Asher’s face, trailing a smooth thumb down the length of his face before pulling him in for a chaste kiss.

“I want this. Just as much as you do. There is no taking advantage when we both want whatever this is.”

Asher looks at up Jakob, needing to look him in the eye when he says it. “Are you sure? You’re one hundred percent sure you don’t feel like I’m coercing you into this?” and Jakob laughs.

“Coercion? Babe, if anyone is coercing anyone, it’s me. Who stole whose tortellini to get his attention? If I recall correctly, that was me”, and Asher kisses his chin when he laughs.

“Okay. If you’re sure”.

“I’m certain”.

“Just don’t tell anyone”, Jakob says and Asher nods, blindly. He’d do anything for this. Anything for Jakob.

* * *

 

 

**II**

“Trevor says you used to DJ?”

They’re at home. Asher, and Jakob, and Trevor’s home. Trevor is out somewhere with his girlfriend and it’s just the two of them at home.

Asher, dozing with his head on Jakob’s shoulder while Mob Wives blares on in the background, nods blearily and mumbles “Only for a little bit. Needed the extra cash for college.”

“College too, huh? Look at your educated ass”.

Asher grins and reaches up to kiss Jakob on the jaw, just behind his ear. “I did drop out, though, so don’t go boasting about how smart your boyfriend”.

Jakob smiles and turns to kiss him on the mouth. “ _Boyfriend,_ huh? “

Asher weaves his hand around the back of Jakob’s head to draw him in for a deeper kiss, not wanting to talk about it, and hums when Jakob licks along his bottom lip, the promise of something later.

“So, did you ever get any rowdy partiers?” Jakob drawls on the pull back, like he’s got something up his sleeve.

Asher frowns, not entirely sure where this conversation is going. “Like what?”

“Strippers?” Jakob has a shit-eating grin on his face and Asher is suddenly terrified; not knowing what Jakob is capable of.

Jakob moves, and Asher lifts his head from Jakob’s shoulder to watch him stand. He towers over Asher.

“Alexa. Play High for This”, Jakob commands.

Asher leans over the back of the couch to yell, “Alexa! No! Don’t listen to him!”, in her general direction.

Jakob teases, “What? Afraid you’re going to enjoy it?”. and Asher licks his lips in anticipation. Jakob reaches down to take his t-shirt off.

“I bet none of those girls were as good as me”, Jakob states; green with possession. Asher opens his arms wide to let Jakob straddle him. Asher strokes his thighs; smoothing his thumbs in tight, languid circles.

Jakob grinds his hips forward, a light pressure, and Asher sighs through his teeth. Asher tips his head back and Jakob leans down to kiss up and along his throat. They move together; slowly. Lazily. Jakob grinds against Asher, again, and lets out a soft whine when he feels Asher harden beneath him. Asher leans up to kiss him on the mouth, biting his lip as he pulls away, and reaches down to undo the button on Jakob’s jeans, gesturing for him to stand up and take them off.

Asher takes advantage of the space to take his off, shimmying them down and kicking them off at the ankles.

Jakob sinks down to his knees, spreading Asher’s legs to sit between them.

“I didn’t prep so a blowjob is the best you’re going to get”, Jakob states, frankly and Asher laughs.

“That sounds good to me”, he says, tucking Jakob’s hair behind his ear, smoothing a thumb down his face and along his jaw.

Jakob reaches up and untucks Asher’s dick from his boxers, letting the leaking head rest against his stomach. He pulls Asher’s boxers down and off, discarding them over his shoulder.

He smooths a hand down his dick and then back up; stroking the slit, slick with precum. Asher whines and Jakob watches his stomach jump in pleasure.

He leans down to kiss up his thighs; leaving a shine of spit like a bread trail up to his groin. He leans forward and licks a stripe up the base of Asher’s cock, and Asher shivers audibly.

Asher reaches for the back of Jakob’s head and guides him to the head, where Jakob opens his mouth and takes Asher into him.

And Asher can’t seem to keep still. His thighs tense intermittently, a warning to Jakob that he’s close, and he’s got a few strands of Jakob’s hair weaved around his fingers to keep him grounded.

His hips start to buck, and he chokes on the phrase, “I’m gon—I’m gonna cum, Jakob”, before Jakob feels a warm load shoot to the back of his throat.

He moves to stand and Asher stops him with a hand to the shoulder. "Wait, aren't you finished?" but to Asher's surprise, Jakob nods. "You finished?", he asks, astonished, "Holy shit".

Jakob rises from his knees then, and they click like he’s sixty. He walks over to the kitchen to spit Asher’s cum in the bin. 

Asher says, out of breath; sated, from his seat on the couch, “What, you’re not going to swallow it?” and Jakob raises an eyebrow.

“I don’t love you that much”, he rebuts—

And, the world seems to stop. Asher is staring at Jakob and Jakob is staring at Asher. Tunnel vision. Neither of them willing to look away because if one of them does, it suddenly acknowledges the fact that Jakob just admitted to loving Asher, even if it was only a little bit. Even if it was only a blowjob giving amount of love, not a swallowing cum about of love.

Asher swallows and the whole word hears it.

“Did you just say that?” He asks, his arm casually laying over the back of the couch, despite him feeling anything but.

“Uh—yeah? I think I just did”.

“How do you feel about it?”

Jakob touches a comforting hand to his stomach, standing in the kitchen stark naked, and still managing to look like a heaven-sent angel. “I don’t know, really. I feel a bit nauseous, but I hate salt, so—"

And Asher laughs. And laughs. And it feels like he might be in a state of utter delirium.

And Jakob joins in. They’re two naked men, fresh from a blowjob, crying with laughter in the kitchen-diner because one of them admitted to loving the other.

And Asher realises, not suddenly or shockingly, that he feels the same way. That he’s never felt happier. That the man laughing himself to tears in the kitchen is the man he wants to wake up to for the rest of his life, or as long as life permits him.

“Jakob?”

Jakob stands from his crouched position, out of breath and sated from sex. He’s grinning ear to ear. “Yeah?”

“I feel the same, by the way.”

Jakob smiles. And Jakob nods. But the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. And Asher pretends not to notice.

* * *

 

 

Asher wakes up to a pressure against his hips and opens his eyes to see Jakob straddling him. He has a huge grin on his face, pleased with himself.

"Hi", he says, and Asher pulls him down for a chaste kiss, aware that he's probably got morning breath.

"Hello. Why are you crushing me?", and Jakob looks insulted. He scoffs and pushes against Asher's bare chest.

"I'm not that heavy, asshole!", and Asher shakes his head and laughs.

“No, you’re not”. He weaves his hands around Jakob and settles them against his lower back. “What is the meaning of this, anyway?”

“ _What is the meaning of this?_ ”, Jakob mocks, “you’re such an old man!” and Asher scoffs this time.

“Old man? I’m an old man?” and he rears up against Jakob, flipping them so Jakob is on his back with Asher looming over him. “Would an old man be able to do that?”

And Jakob whispers, breathlessly, “no”. Asher licks his lips and leans down to kiss Jakob on the mouth. Jakob opens his legs and allows Asher to lay in between them. Asher pulls away, parting with another chaste kiss, and laces his hands together on Jakob’s chest, resting his head on them, and peers up to look at Jakob.

“What do you want anyway?” He asks, laughter in this voice. Jakob runs his fingers through Asher’s hair as he talks, Asher leans into Jakob’s hand like a cat, practically purring at the touch.

“Well, I was wondering if you wanted to go and see a shitty movie at the theater and just make out the whole time instead of actually watching it?”

Asher nods and grins, “yes. Absolutely! That sounds like a great idea”, and Jakob beams, his eyes full of warmth.

“Cool. Let’s go, then”.

“I need to shower, first. I probably smell so bad”.

“Well so do I. Let’s shower together. Think of all the water we’ll save. California is in a drought after all!”

Asher slaps Jakob’s ass, “you’re a genius!”

* * *

 

 

 

**III**

They never officially have _The Talk_. They just, sort of, wake up one morning as a couple. Asher doesn’t feel weird, or giddy about it. It’s just like it’s always been this way. Like he’s been waking up next to Jakob his entire life. Like it’s his fate, romantic allusions aside.

A fate that Jakob, unfortunately, wants kept behind closed doors.

But the private talks and lingering looks between the two of them at work don’t go unnoticed, apparently. 

It’s a Wednesday. The sun is shining, despite it being late autumn, but in L.A that’s not news. And it’s podcast day. They’re sat on the roof of an outlet mall, God knows how Brett got permission to be up here, and they’re setting up the sound when Aleks strolls over to Asher, who’s sat well out of the way, currently setting up one of the two cameras.

“Are you and Jakob fucking?” He asks, outright, not offering a polite ‘hello’ first. Or a polite anything, for that matter. He’s crouched in front of Asher, his arms leant on his knees, hands hanging down.

“Why do you care?” Asher responds, suddenly feeling defensive. And Asher knows that Aleks can see right through him.

“So that’s a yes?” Aleks cocks an eyebrow, too confident for this own good.

“No, we’re not. He’s a kid, Aleks. Besides, it’d be none of your business if we were”. He’s gritting his teeth, careful not to overstep a line that may or may not be drawn.

Aleks licks his lips, calculating, and stands from his crouched position on the floor. He turns to walk away but before he does, he calls over his shoulder “It’s cool if you are. You know we don’t care.” And he leaves. He wanders over to James and Brett, and Asher watches him sidle up to James, lacing a hand around his waist.

He flicks his eyes over to Jakob instinctively, and makes eye contact with him across the roof. And Jakob looks like he’s been gutted. Like he’s staring at his own organs laying out on the cement in front of him. And Asher suddenly feels sick.

Brett sets out the deck chairs, and over the course of a 30 minutes, everything is ready and prepared. And the podcast starts. And, nauseatingly, Jakob is the guest.

They mindlessly chat for most of it, and James tells a few stories about his childhood and gets a few laughs. And Jakob has this faraway look in his eyes, and he’s not really talking, and Brett, like a vulture to carrion, picks up on it. And Brett decides to pick him raw.

“So, Jakob. The fans want to know”, he says, in an annoying, talk show host voice and Asher watches Jakob’s eye twitch in annoyance, anticipating something incendiary to bleed from Brett’s shit-stirring mouth, “are you in a relationship?” And Asher’s heart stops, “‘Because you’ve been talking around the subject for some time and, well, the crowds of Reddit are all a-murmur, sitting like ducks for an answer”.

Jakob runs his tongue along the length of his front teeth, his lip jutting out like a petulant child. He smiles with empty eyes at Brett and says through somewhat gritted teeth, “maybe”.

The dagger plunges deep into Asher’s belly.

Jakob levels a gaze at Asher now and spits a, “maybe not”, and Brett claps his hands together.

The dagger twists and pulls out, bringing with it a trail of blood swinging from the teeth of a salivating beast.

“Well”, Brett says, “that settles that, I guess? Thanks everyone for tuning in to this week’s CCTV— “, and Asher tunes out. His ears are ringing. Jakob’s staring right at him, eyes resentful and furious, and Asher feels like he might throw himself off the roof at any minute.

* * *

 

**IV**

They get back to the warehouse. It’s getting late and people are starting to go home, the podcast having worn them out. The editors are staying, Anna already sat down at her desk working. Asher guesses it’s probably a good thing that one of them has a crazy work ethic, considering he feels like he can’t do anything right now.  

The dread in his stomach has only gotten heavier and heavier throughout the day. Good, old anxiety has amped this so-called, unspoken _‘argument’_ from zero to one hundred and Asher feels like he can’t function properly. He can hear Trevor laughing as they walk into the warehouse and Asher worries that they’re laughing about him. Laughing about how bad of a boyfriend he is.

Except, Jakob would never. Jakob wouldn’t dare. Which is stupid, really, because Trevor lives with them so if he doesn’t know that they’re dating, he must be both deaf and blind. 

Jakob meets his eye when he walks into the room, but he doesn’t say anything. Or do anything. There’s nothing but resentment in his eyes and Asher suddenly feels like he could cry.

“Jakob”, he calls after him. And thank the gods, Jakob turns.

He replies, “what?” and his voice is ice cold.

“Can I talk to you? In private?” Asher waits. And waits. And Jakob nods, eventually. He follows Asher out of the room and into the parking lot, away from everyone else. Asher is well aware that everyone watched them leave, and that everyone knows something is going on, but he doesn’t let the thought linger too long. He hasn’t got the energy to deal with anything else right now.

“I’m not ashamed of you”, Asher says, outright. “I just thought that you didn’t want this out in the open, so I didn’t want to out this to Aleks without getting your permission first”, and Jakob swallows, and averts his eyes. And lies through his teeth.

“I don’t really care, to be honest. We were just fucking anyway”, but Asher knows that he does care. And Asher knows that this is more than just fucking for the both of them. Asher can see right through him.

“You do care, Jakob. Don’t lie to me—”, and Jakob says—

“I’m not doing this anymore. I can’t— “, looking to the ground, chin touching chest, and Asher feels the world cave in on itself beneath him.  

“What?”, he croaks and takes a step towards Jakob, trying to close the gap between them that’s starting to feel like a canyon, and like the final show of a retiring dancer, Jakob takes a step back, maybe two. Asher can’t really see through the tears building up on his waterline.  

“I can’t do this”.

“Why not? Did something happen?” and Jakob shakes his head. And Jakob swallows. And Asher starts but Jakob interrupts.

“I’m too young for you! You’ve said so yourself. Actually, you haven’t _stopped_ saying it since the minute whatever this is—was. Whatever this _was_ started. And honestly, I’m sick of it, Asher.”

Asher shakes his head. He wants to say “don’t”, he wants to say “stay”, he wants to say anything that’ll make Jakob change his mind, but his throat feels filled to the brim with slowly hardening cement and he feels like he can hardly breathe. He can’t speak. He can’t plead and beg like a dying man at the altar, waiting for the pardon. He has no Hail Mary’s.

Don’t you remember? God’s already gone.

Instead, he says, “is there somebody else?”

And Jakob shakes his head. And Asher has never seen so much hurt in his eyes. Asher feels sick. He hasn’t stopped feeling sick all day.

“You know it’s only you. It’s only ever been you, Asher.”

And Asher nods. It’s only ever been Jakob for him, too. A tear falls.

“But it’s not fair to keep you in this, whatever it is, if it’s making you feel like it does”.

And anger flushes Asher’s body clean of every other emotion besides it. Asher scoffs, and shakes his head.

Like it’s Jakob’s fucking choice. Like Jakob knows what’s good for him.

“And how does it make me feel, Jakob?”

“Like a pedophile.”

The world stops spinning. It halts on its axis.

“I know it does, Asher. I know you go to bed every night feeling guilty. Like you’re doing something wrong. And it’s not fair. To you or to me.” Asher wishes he could speak. He wishes he could rebut whatever bullshit is coming out of Jakob’s mouth right now. But he’s choking on grief.

“I love you, Asher, and that’s why I’m ending this. Because it’s not fair to drag this out if it’s literally driving you crazy”.

Asher feels like he’s out of his own body right now. Like he’s watching this from across the parking lot, or from a second story window of the building next door. And he feels completely helpless.

Jakob watches Asher, and he waits for a response. And when he doesn’t get one, he shakes his head in dismay and leaves. He turns and walks back into the warehouse. And Asher stands in the parking lot and watches him close the warehouse door behind him, not even sparing Asher a glance. And Asher’s legs feel like jelly. He feels like he could collapse.

Instead, he takes a deep breath. He closes his eyes. He inhales, and he exhales. In through his nose and out through his mouth. He swallows the threat of bile rushing up his throat. He runs a hand through his hair and straightens his shirt. He breathes. And he walks back into the warehouse.

Nobody is looking but he can feel every eye in the room. He walks into the bullpen and heads for his desk. His head is spinning. His footsteps are the loudest noise in the room. He uses the sound to ground him.

He pulls out his chair and takes a seat. He puts his headphones on. He clears his throat. He gets back to work.

* * *

 

 

**V**

It’s pitch black when he gets home. It’s probably only 8pm but winter darkens the world around him too fast for him to notice. He walks into the house, kicking his shoes off in the vestibule, and standing in the threshold to the house, he sees Jakob sat on the couch. He must’ve pooled with Trevor.

He watches Jakob watching him.

He continues towards the stairs. And he hears the couch move as Jakob stands up. And he hears Jakob swallow, as if he wants to say something but makes the decision not to. He doesn’t turn around. He walks up the stairs and stops at the top. His head spins.

He grabs the handrail to steady himself. He figures it’s probably not a good idea to fall backwards down the stairs, considering the only person who can help him, the one stood at the bottom of the stairs watching him, conveniently just broke his fucking heart.

What a fucking mess.

He goes to his room, closing and locking the door behind him. He drops his bag from his shoulder and walks over to the bed. He lays down and gets under the duvet. He covers his head. He closes his eyes.

And he sleeps.

* * *

 

 

 

Two and a half weeks pass. Asher has never felt so alone.

He wakes up feeling like he drank a whole liquor store, despite going to bed sober, for once. His head feels like it weighs one hundred tonnes and he can’t will his limbs to move.

He looks over to his bedside table where the clock on the top reads **07:33am**. He groans, or at least as much as he’s able to, and reaches under the pillow to check his phone. Except it’s not there. Because it’s in the jeans he kicked off onto the floor last night. And that also means that his phone is most likely dead.

He sighs, leaning his head back against the pillow. His ceiling could do with a repaint. The white is starting to turn creamy. He doesn’t know how he’d get up high enough to do it. He’s not sure they own a ladder.

There’s a brief second or two where he forgets why he feels the way he does. But the smell of his pillow reminds him. It sticks to everything. He can’t escape it.

He’s never felt this bad after being dumped before. It’s certainly an interesting experience, to say the least. To want to stay in bed all day. To literally never want to speak to another human being for as long as he lives. He’s had depression before, sure, but this is different. This feels like a flesh-eating parasite with no cure. Or, Jakob is the anecdote. Or Jakob is the parasite.

Or he’s both and Asher is doomed regardless.

Asher figures he should probably get up, and sooner is better than later, because the longer he stays in the bed, the longer he has to dwell on the fact that he’s apparently unlovable.

He swings his legs over the bed and sits on the edge, hoping the head rush goes away before he stands up. He has last night’s jeans on and they’re digging into his hips, leaving a mark all the way around. He should probably go on a diet. But not now.

Before he leaves the room, he swaps them out for a pair of sweatpants. Cow Chop ones. He’s not sure he owns any others, at this point, and what would be the point in buying any if Rooster Teeth supplies them for free?

He closes the door quietly behind him, aware of the fact that everyone else is probably still asleep. When he walks down stairs, he peers around the wall and sees a fresh pot of coffee made, which means that someone is awake, and it’s very unlikely that it’s Trevor.

He walks over to the cupboard and pulls out a mug with a dick on it and huffs. Naturally. He pours himself a cup of coffee and he adds an extra spoonful or two of sugar just to treat himself. Lord knows he deserves it. Or he doesn’t. He doesn’t care right now.

He turns around to walk back towards the stairs and Jakob is stood there at the foot of the stairs, just…watching him. Which isn’t that abnormal for Jakob, but now it feels wrong. Like it physically hurts to feel his eyes. Asher averts his, avoiding eye contact with Jakob, and Jakob swallows. And it’s audible, which definitely makes the situation worse.

Asher doesn’t want to know how Jakob feels. He wishes he didn’t care but he does so the only thing he can do is not want to know, rather than not care to know.

Two people shouldn’t pass on the stairs, but Asher figures his luck is already pretty bad, so what’s another lump of bad luck? Asher moves to walk past him, but Jakob reaches out; a hand around his wrist. Asher feels like he could cry, but he swallows it.

He mutters a quiet, “don’t”, and pulls away from Jakob. He listens to Jakob’s receding footsteps as he walks up the stairs and can’t help but feel indignant.

Why should Jakob be allowed to touch him if he’s not willing to talk to him? Like Jakob needs Asher and then once he’s got his fix, he’s done? That’s it? Wham, Bam, Thank You Ma’am?

Asher doesn’t want his coffee anymore. He sets it down on the bedside table and then sits down on the edge of the bed, so he can put some socks on. He reaches under the bed and grabs the first sweater he finds and pulls it out to put on. He hasn’t got to dress to impress anymore, so why bother? He picks up his work backpack and throws it over his shoulder, grabbing his car keys from the dish on the desk on his way out of the room.

He doesn’t really care how loud he’s being now. Fuck everyone. Even Trevor, who started this whole thing in the first place. What better way to deal with a situation that’s, more than likely, your fault then to blame someone else?

If Trevor hadn’t suggested Jakob to James, he wouldn’t be in this mess. If Trevor hadn’t asked Jakob to move in, he wouldn’t be in this mess. If Asher was dead, he wouldn’t be in this mess.

He slips on his shoes when he gets to the vestibule and then promptly leaves, slamming the door behind him. He hopes it wakes Trevor. He hopes it scares Jakob half-to-death. Then he can feel how Asher feels.

* * *

 

 

**VI**

When he gets to work, it’s only him and James there. James is usually fairly early so it’s not really surprising. It’s probably more surprising for James. Asher tries to make as much noise as possible, so he doesn’t scare James, and when he walks into the bullpen James is looking over his shoulder at him. He looks relieved when he realises it’s Asher and not a burglar, but then he looks confused because it’s Asher, and it’s only **08:15am** and Asher’s not due to start for another hour and a half.

“Hey, man?”, he says, or asks. “What are you doing here so early?”

Asher smiles politely, “I woke up early, so I figured I may as well come in, get some work done that I should’ve finished yesterday. I want to stay on top of things”, and James nods. He looks like he wants to say something, but Asher doesn’t give him the chance. He puts his bag at his desk and then walks to the bathroom.

When he gets there, he looks in the mirror for the first time today. His hair is disheveled, and he looks like he’s just rolled out of bed, which is apt because he essentially has. His face is sagging, and he looks like he hasn’t slept in days, but he’s here so that’ll have to fucking do.

He turns the tap on and splashes water on his face, both to clean himself and to wake himself up. It doesn’t really make him feel any better but it’s the thought that counts.

He dries his face on his sleeve, which makes washing his face sort of pointless considering the sweater came from under his bed but whatever. He leaves the bathroom and walks to the kitchen, in the hope of actually being able to drink a coffee this time.

He turns on the coffee pot and waits for it to brew.

“Is that coffee you’re making?” James shouts, leaning over the back of his chair in the bullpen, to which Asher sighs and replies, “yeah!”.

“Can you make me one since you’re over there?”, James shouts, again, trying to project his voice far enough so that Asher can hear, and so he won’t have to repeat himself.

“Sure, that’s fine!” Asher replies and opens the cupboard, reaching up to get two mugs out.

James comes to stand with him in the kitchen, leaning with one elbow against the counter. He looks relaxed, but Asher knows it’s a ruse. He knows something is coming, it’s just a case of when.

“What’s going on with you and Jakob?”

Now. It’s happening now.

“What do you mean what’s going with me and Jakob?”, Asher asks, as if he hasn’t been moping around the office for six weeks. As if it’s not blatantly obvious that something is wrong.

“I spoke to Aleks and he told me that he spoke to Jakob about it already”, and Asher feels hot with dread. He doesn’t want to keep reliving this. Especially at work, where he’s trying to earn enough money to keep living in the house that’s practically killing him. “I know that you’re together, or you were. I just wanted to make sure that you’re okay”.

Asher feels like he’s on fire. “He dumped me, James. Is that what you wanted to know? He fucking left me. I’m not fucking okay. I’m not okay at all”, and James’ eyes are full of pity and Asher’s too exhausted to feel anything. He feels like he could just drop to the floor and stay there forever.

“What happened?” James says, standing up a little straighter and extending an arm along the counter, knowing that Asher is too sensitive to be touched but offering the idea of comfort anyway.

Asher shakes his head. “I don’t know”, he says. “I don’t know”, and James waits, because James knows what happened already. James gives him the time he needs, knowing it’s better out than in.

Asher blinks, and looks to the floor, not wanting to look James in the eye.

“It feels like it came out of nowhere”, he swallows, “I told Aleks that we weren’t together, because Jakob _wanted_ to keep it a secret”, Asher runs a hand over his eyes and lets his mouth run away with him, “and the next thing I know he’s telling me that it’s unfair to keep him or _me_ ”, he gestures to his chest, “in this relationship, as if it’s _his_ choice what I want, because of the way it makes me feel and then—he just left, James. He left—", he sobs and the lump forming in his throat bursts, and the levee breaks. And he hopes to whatever God that might still be out there that crying to his boss won’t cost him his job. Or the respect of his boss. Especially when he’s crying about _this_ , for fuck’s sake.

“How does it make you feel?”

Asher wishes he were literally anywhere else.

“Guilty”, and James frowns.

“Why do you feel guilty?” And Asher feels like he’s 14 again, talking to a therapist about his stupid, gay problems. He’s glad that in nearly 10 years, nothing has fucking changed.

“Because he’s young”, Asher whispers, “and I feel like I’m taking advantage of him” and James guffaws, and the tears only persist. His face is sopping wet, the collar of his t-shirt now expanding with dampness.

“He’s nearly 20, right?” and Asher nods. “According to the Age of Consent in North America, he’s legally allowed to consent to whatever he wants, therefore removing the opportunity for you to take advantage of him, in that sense”, and Asher nods. He fucking knows this already.

“Did he verbally consent to being in a sexual relationship with you?” and Asher blanches. “Well, did he?” James prods and Asher nods.

“Yeah—, uh, yes. He consented. It was a consensual relationship.”

“Then you’re all good!” and James smiles and brings a hand to Asher’s shoulder amicably.

And yet, Asher doesn’t feel any better. Arguably worse, actually. His stupid fucking insecurities ruined the best thing he ever had. He not only feels like a fucking moron, but also immeasurably alone.

“Asher, listen to me. Dating in this business is hard, especially if you're both in the public eye. Trust me, I can give you a million first hand experiences of it nearly ruining my relationship, but we pulled through, because we communicated our concerns and we allowed ourselves to grow with each other, and because we love each other” and James smiles encouragingly, “and if you both truly love each other, life will find a way”.

* * *

 

 

**VI**

 

A month passes.

Christmas comes quickly. Far too quickly for Asher’s liking. He wishes he felt more festive. He wishes he could summon the energy to care about festivity. He wishes he could close his eyes and not see Jakob burned onto his eyelids, but alas, it seems the genie in the bottle doesn’t feel like it today.

Cow Chop are arranging a “work-do” that Asher desperately wishes he could skip out on, but with his misery being public knowledge, or at least the juiciest work gossip, no one in their right mind is going to let him simply _not_ attend. For his health, or something? Lindsey’s been hovering like a mother missing her children; glomming onto the nearest person who apparently needs looking after. It’s really annoying but Asher doesn’t have the heart to tell her to fuck off, or maybe he needs it. It’s probably the latter.

She insists on taking him out to lunch twice a week. Lunch only being a cheap McDonald’s meal, but Asher figures it’s the thought. Maybe she needs to get out of the warehouse as badly as he does.

It’s a Wednesday, and they’re sat in the McDonald’s Drive-Thru when she springs the news on him.

“The party is next Friday, and I think it starts at 7:00pm”, she tells him, like he cares. Like he plans on going. “And you’re officially responsible for decorations. It wasn’t my decision before you jump down my throat”, she points an accusatory finger in his face, “and it’ll be good for you to do something different”, as if she’s a fucking counselor now.

Asher nods, obediently, not bothering with an argument that he’s not going to win.

“So, if you want to turn up at like, 5? Or something?”, she tells him, like she doesn’t really know what she’s talking about. “The decorations will already have been bought so you don’t have to worry about that bit, I just need you to put them up. It doesn’t matter how, Brett doesn’t really mind. They just need to be up before everyone gets to the warehouse, is that okay?” She asks, and she turns in her seat to look at him, only to see his crestfallen face staring back at her.

“Asher”, she whines, “come on! You can’t be depressed forever. Break-ups suck, I’ll be the first to tell you—”

“Really? Because it seems like your relationship is perfectly healthy." The silence is choking him. "Is it?”, he prods, “Is that why you feel qualified to tell me what to do with mine?” He bursts open. He’s been letting it build up and the bottle has finally popped.

Lindsey looks hurt. Her mouth moves around words, but none are voiced. She’s speechless. She turns back in her seat, facing forward and moves the car along when the space is available.

They sit in silence.

Eventually, they end up at the service window, and Lindsey passes the food over to Asher, who takes it and sits it on his lap, guiltily. She pays for both of their meals, despite Asher having been an asshole, and thanks the clerk before driving out of the Drive-Thru and back towards the warehouse.

“Sorry, Lindsey”, Asher apologises, “I didn’t mean for it to come out that way. I’m just frustrated because everyone keeps giving me their advice”, his shoulders slowly rise with tension, “and I haven’t actually asked for any”.

“Maybe we’re offering advice because we care about you?” She bites in retaliation, and Asher’s shoulders fall. He feels like a child. The lump in his throat is back and persistent as ever.

“I’m an asshole, Lindsey. I’m sorry”, he apologises again.

Lindsey shakes her head. “No, you’re not an asshole”, she assures, “you’re just hurt, and you don’t know what to do with it”, she looks across the car and raises her eyebrows at him, pointedly. “When I say I’ve been there, I’m not lying. I’ve been in the same position you’re in and I’ve taken my pain out on everybody around me, like you are. It’s a horrible place to be and I understand that”, she turns her eyes back to the road and Asher sits in his silence and allows the dejection to wash over him.

“Have you spoken to Jakob?” she asks, and Asher involuntarily flinches at the mere mention of him, so of course he hasn’t spoken to him. He’s not sure he’d survive the encounter.

He whispers, “no. Not since—no, I haven’t” and Lindsey nods.

“Maybe you should? Maybe it’ll help clear the air. If there’s any animosity between you—” and Asher interrupts again.

“I’m not going to talk to him, Linds. I can’t”, and Lindsey lets it go. Or at least, Asher thinks she does.

She doesn’t mention it again, instead gesturing with her fingers for a fry. Asher takes one out of the bag and feeds it to her.

“Mmm!”, she hums. “This is worth the blocked arteries!” and Asher huffs, amused. He feeds a French fry to himself, and blanches at the salt. _Jakob would hate these_ , he thinks.

* * *

 

 

It’s Friday. _The_ Friday. 5pm rolls around and Asher finds himself stood in the middle of the warehouse, looking at a smorgasbord of munchies on an array of flat-pack foldable tables, the copious amounts of alcohol bought for the night stored underneath.

Another flat-pack table towards the back of the warehouse has all the cheap, target decorations on. Asher figures that, out of all the shitty decorations, he should start with the rainbow-coloured paper-chains that look ready to fall apart. He drags a ladder from the storage room into the main room of the warehouse, the ladder rocking on its legs, and slowly walks up it, paper-chains in hand. Only when he gets to the top does he realise that he forgot the tape to secure the paper-chains to the wall. He sighs to the ceiling, cursing whoever’s listening, and makes his journey back down the ladder.

He hears pottering behind him and figures it’s Anna getting something from the kitchen, so imagine his surprise when he turns around and sees Jakob standing there, tape in hand.

“Oh”, Asher says, gormlessly. “I thought you were Anna”.

“Nope!”, Jakob smiles and Asher feels the sky fall down around him, “just me!” and Asher nods, silent.

“Can I have the tape, please? I need it to secure these stupid things to the wall”, he says, gesturing to the paper-chains he has hanging limply from his hands. Jakob reaches across the space between them, handing Asher the tape, and his fingers brush Asher’s, barely. Just slightly. But enough.

They stand there, still, in the back of the warehouse, staring at each other like the first day they met. And in true fashion, Asher lets go first. He swings the paper-chain over his shoulder, and walks back up the ladder, tape now in hand.

Jakob comes to stand next to the ladder, helping to stabilise it at the bottom. He’s looking up at Asher and Asher’s trying his damned hardest to ignore him.

“Asher”, Jakob starts, and Asher pretends he’s too busy taping the shitty decorations to the wall to listen. He rips the tape harshly on purpose, trying to make as much noise as he can so that Jakob’s voice is drowned out behind it.

“I’m sorry”, Jakob says and Asher snorts.

“For what?”

“For hurting you”, Jakob urges and Asher shrugs.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about”, and again, Asher’s lying through his fucking teeth.

“Asher, please”, Jakob begs, “don’t be difficult”, and Asher guffaws, the laugh empty.

“Difficult? Asher gestures to his chest, “Am I difficult? I didn’t realise”, and now he _is_ being difficult, and obnoxious to boot. But he figures he’s allowed to be, after all the shit he’s been put through.

“It was a mistake!”, Jakob shouts, and Asher stops. He stands, silent, 4 feet in the air on a 6-year-old step-ladder that’s rusting at the hinges. He wants to laugh at the absurdity but there’s no room for laughter.

“It was a mistake”, Jakob repeats, voice thick with emotion. “I shouldn’t have done it”.

“Done what?” Asher prods, needing to hear it. Needing the resolution.

“I shouldn’t have left you” Jakob finishes, looking up at Asher with wet eyes.

Asher closes his eyes and wills the tears away, just for a second. “Then why did you?” He says, quietly, still refusing to look at Jakob.

“Can you come down from the ladder, please? This is important. I want to look at you when I’m speaking to you”, he’s practically begging. And in some faraway part of his brain, Asher wishes he didn't love Jakob. He wishes he could let Jakob beg and still say no. He wishes that a heartless part of him could walk away. But that's not what this is. There's no such place in his brain.

He slowly gets down from the ladder. His feet feel like cement blocks against the floor. He reluctantly looks at Jakob.

And Jakob looks beautiful, as usual. Tears edge against his waterline, and he blinks, letting them cascade down his cheeks. “I miss you”, he whispers.

_I miss you, I miss you, I miss you._

Asher’s legs feel weak. They buckle at the kneecaps. Jakob grabs him by the crook of the elbow to keep him upright. Asher throws his hands around Jakob’s neck and holds on. He holds on for dear life. Jakob grabs him around the waist and tightens his arms until they’re almost one person. Asher can feel Jakob’s chest constricting and relaxing with his sobs.

“I love you, I love you, I love you—”, Jakob chants. He’s at confession and the priest has just granted him absolution. He’s speaking in tongues, unintelligible, and he won’t stop talking. He won’t stop chanting. His voice is distorted; the tears making his voice sound thick and faraway: somewhere down his throat, shouting from his belly. His legs scream, his thighs, his hips, his chest, his shoulders, his back. His body screams his adoration.

Asher’s ribs hurt. His heart feels eight times its normal size, his chest just about ready to burst. He takes a deep breath, his chest rattling on the exhale. He loosens his hands around Jakob’s neck in the hopes that Jakob will loosen his. They slowly pull away from each other.

They’re looking at each other now. Asher’s face is bright red; flustered and Jakob’s nose is red from crying.

Asher brings his hands up to cup Jakob’s face. He pulls Jakob in, seamlessly, for a kiss. It’s close-mouthed, patient. They just feel each other. The pulse in their lips. They both have their eyes open, still brimming with tears of relief.

Asher pulls away and rests his forehead against Jakob’s. They must be quite the sight.

“I’m in love with you”, Asher whispers. “Since the beginning—” and Jakob is nodding frantically, “it’s always been you. You, Jakob”, it’s him, now, that can’t stop talking. Jakob is only nodding now, letting Asher speak. “Being away from you—, it was the worst two months of my life, Jakob. It was awful— “, he’s choking on his tears.

“I know, me too. Me too— “. Frantic. “I love you so much. I couldn’t live without you—” and Asher is pulled in for a kiss this time. Asher opens his mouth, wasting no time, and Jakob licks into Asher’s mouth. Jakob is leaning over Asher, his hand against Asher’s back to keep him upright, and Asher feels like they’re a still in an _Old Hollywood_ movie. He’s never felt more graceful in his life.

He opens his eyes and looks above Jakob’s head and sees the warehouse roof. And reality crashes down around him. He pulls away from Jakob suddenly, noting the confusion in his eyes, and steps back from him.

They’re both flustered. Asher’s hair is probably a mess and Jakob’s cheeks are rosy. He’s suddenly embarrassed. He got so carried away. They both did.

“This is all well and good” he breathes, “but we have— “, he looks at the watch on his wrist, “an hour and a half to prep this _massive_ warehouse for a Christmas party”, he explains and the confusion in Jakob’s eyes is replaced with relief. “Kissing you is fantastic, but having a job is also fantastic, and I’d like to keep mine, if you don’t mind”, and Jakob belly-laughs.

Asher offers Jakob one last kiss. He has to fight the shitty, gay demon in him that wants to deepen it.

“Okay!” He shouts, resolutely, “blow up some of those balloons for me, babe. Stat!”

* * *

 

 

**_“Last Christmas, I gave you my heart, but the very next day, you gave it away—"_ **

One hundred people packed into the Cow Chop warehouse is about as much as Asher can take, plus he’s heard this _Wham!_ song four times and it’s only been two and a half hours. Apparently, Lindsey only brought one CD to the party and it was an out-of-date one that had been lying in her car for probably a decade.

Asher decides that a breather would do him good, and heads out towards the parking lot. He shoulders open the lobby door, drink in one hand and phone in the other and when he looks up, he sees Jakob sat against the wall in the dark.

“Hey!”, he greets, and Jakob looks up to smile at him.

“Hello. Having fun?” Jakob asks as Asher takes a seat, turned slightly to face him.

“Oh, just the best time! How about you?”

“Same. That’s why I’m out here”, he quips and Asher laughs. “You can only hear Mariah Carey so many times before it starts to drive you crazy”, Jakob explains and Asher nods in agreement.

“We did pretty good with the decorations though, I think”, Asher says, “Brett seemed pretty pleased when he came in”.

“I think that was all you, though. I just stood under the ladder and looked at your ass”, and Asher swats at him, “and I blew up some balloons!”

“Yeah, like 3? Four, at a stretch”.

“Better than nothing”, Jakob offers with a tilt of his head and a cocky smile, and Asher is again hit with the realisation that he’s in love with the idiot sat beside him.

“How’d you know I was going to be at the warehouse anyway?” Asher asks, the question having played on his mind since Jakob turned up.

“Lindsey told me”, Jakob replies, and Asher feels his jaw hit the ground. “Well, she sort of suggested that I might enjoy decorating the warehouse because it’d get me out of the house, and she _sort of_ alluded to you being there, so I figured why not? I needed to see you anyway”, he explains, and Asher is still sat there, mouth agape.

Jakob laughs, “what?”

“Nothing. I just can’t believe she set this up”, Asher huffs into a laugh. “That explains why she practically forced me to do this”.

“Aren’t you glad she did though?”, Jakob asks, an eyebrow raised, and Asher nods.

Jakob weaves a hand behind Asher’s neck and nestles it into his hair.

“What do you want out of this? Out of us being together?” Asher asks, outright, leaning his head into Jakob’s hand.

“You”, Jakob answers, frank.

“I don’t mean that. I mean, do you want it to be a secret? Because I’m not sure that I can do that. You know what happened last time”, Asher laughs, self-deprecatingly. Disgraced. Ashamed.

“I want to tell people, if that’s what you’re asking. I don’t want to hide you”, and Asher smiles, He holds Jakob’s arm, smoothing his thumb along Jakob’s wrist. “What about your issues with my age?” Jakob asks, outright.

“I think it’s something I’ll have to get used to. Or maybe, grow with? If that’s okay with you”, Asher says, or mumbles, acutely aware that this is what ended them the first time.

“That sounds good to me”, Jakob says, sickly sweet. “Communication is key, according to our resident “ _Relationship Specialist_ ” Aleks Marchant”.

“Oh, I got a spiel from James, don’t worry!”, Asher assures, “I didn’t miss out on that TED talk”.

“They’ve been together, what—six years?”, Jakob asks, “They’re clearly doing something right. Maybe they’re advice is actually not worthless?” and Asher shrugs in response, the conversation coming to a natural end.

“Do you want to go inside?” Asher asks

“Not really but it’s getting pretty chilly out here, and these ugly Christmas sweaters aren’t gonna protect us forever”, Jakob says, pushing up from the floor and dusting off the back of his jeans. He reaches a hand down to help Asher up, and threads their fingers together when Asher is standing. Asher tucks his phone into his back pocket and picks up his drink from the floor. He peers inside and sees a bug floating on the surface and elects not to drink it, instead throwing it in the next bin they walk past.

Asher catches Lindsey’s eye from across the warehouse when they walk in. He watches her eyes flick down to their entwined hands. Her eyes flick up to Asher’s and she shares a private smile with him, relieved that they’ve finally made up but not wanting to cause a scene.

Brett set up some janky disco lights, and the room is bathed in swaths of blues, reds and oranges. It feels like a weird, school disco with $3 admission and a _Bring Your Own_ _Juice Box_  policy, but Asher’s glad it turned out okay. Or okay enough. A lot of the alcohol has already been consumed so Asher figures the attendees probably don’t care about the scenery.

Jakob pulls Asher into the middle of the makeshift ‘dance floor’, with Asher protesting the whole way.

“Jakob! I can’t dance. I’m going to embarrass both of us”, and Jakob shushes him with a kiss, which is surprisingly effective.

Tame Impala is playing, which really brings the whole Shitty 80’s Disco theme together, but Jakob is staring down at Asher with such adoration, such warmth, that Asher can’t find it in himself to hate it.

Jakob sways them back and forth, slowly. He has his hands in the back pockets of Asher’s jeans, his weird spindly arms long enough to reach without being uncomfortable, and Asher leans into it. He leans his head against Jakob’s chest and weaves his arms around Jakob’s waist and allows himself to be swayed.

His chest feels fit to burst. The lump in his throat is back, but he welcomes it this time. He lets the tears well up; his eyes swirling with relief. Swirling with love. Swirling with something still waiting to be discovered.

* * *

 

  

**_I saw it different,_ **

**_I must admit._ **

**_I caught a glimpse,_ **

**_I’m going after it._ **

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! 
> 
> I'm on this shit (Asher/Jakob) right now, and therefore decided to write a 12,000 word fic about it. There's, like, four people that ship this, including me, so if you're one of those three people and you do enjoy this fic, please let me know! If you don't enjoy it, please let me know but be kind. I'm a sensitive weenie.
> 
> Disclaimer #1: I like Brett. I don't know why I always write him as the antagonist, or the asshole. 
> 
> Disclaimer #2: I'm British and that reflects in the way I spell things and also certain aspects of this fic, for example: a handbrake (I don't know what the American equivalent is) and I had to look up if American's have electric kettles (Google says no). If you are American, I hope it's not too obvious that this isn't written by an American, and I hope it doesn't ruin the immersion I hope I've created.
> 
> This has been beta'd by me, so there's more than likely a few mistakes/grammatical errors I missed. If you see any, please let me know so I don't have to live with the embarrassment of leaving it in. 
> 
> Title and headnotes/footnotes are from Yes I'm Changing by Tame Impala.
> 
> I'm over at mightydogfood on Tumblr if you're into that kind of thing.
> 
> See ya!


End file.
